


hubris

by celosiaa



Series: JM + Emma [8]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jon has EDS/POTS, and his niece (adopted by tim and sasha) is in his class, and is a professor, but don't let it scare you away!!, part of a larger au, read the notes and everything will make sense i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/pseuds/celosiaa
Summary: Jon faints while teaching, and his niece helps him out.
Series: JM + Emma [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909813
Comments: 14
Kudos: 125





	hubris

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!!!
> 
> hey everybody! So this fic is part of a larger AU we've dreamed up on my Tumblr in which JM adopt a daughter named Emma. Tim and Sasha have also adopted children, the eldest of which is Molly, who is a student in Jon's literature class this semester. Jon has EDS/POTS, and a service dog named Iris! 
> 
> I know this is a pretty big jump in the story timeline!!!! but I couldn't help myself :)
> 
> hope you will enjoy <3

“Now, when we think about what’s coming next—as I assume you are all at least somewhat familiar with the story of Oedipus—you can clearly see this foreshadowing of the downfall played out in every line. This lends itself well into one of the elements of classical tragedy, as we’ve discussed: hubris—or in Ancient Greek, “ὕβρις.” If you look back at the first antistrophe of chorus two it is quite clear—”

_God, just slow down._

Pencil working furiously over her notepad, Molly’s frustration quickly grows as she listens to her Uncle Jon talking faster and faster, barely able to keep up with the page flipping and the hand raising and whatever infernal Greek word he’s written on the board now.

_Should never have taken this class,_ she can’t help but think, reaching up for a moment to rub at her eyes beneath her glasses. Some part of her had thought it might be fun, might serve as a fantastic opportunity to tease him at family dinners—but he talks so damned fast, she often cannot even look up to see if anything amusing is happening.

It’s very irritating.

Nearly lost in the scratching of her pencil and the endless drone of his voice, she barely catches the sound of Iris’s collar jingling as she stands and pads over to the center of the room, where Jon stands lecturing.

_Can’t be good._

Notes instantly forgotten, Molly picks up her head to watch—seeing Iris lick his hand in what she knows is an alert for him to sit down at once. Of course, as Uncle Jon tends to do, he remains too distracted by whatever passionate point he’s trying to make, simply continuing to motion fervently at the board.

_Please sit down, please sit down,_ Molly thinks, her leg beginning to bounce with worry as Iris carries on licking and nipping at his hand, and he carries on ignoring her.

_You’re going to fall._

And sure enough, after a few more moments of this, he cuts off his long monologue rather suddenly in favor of leaning against the wall, blinking rapidly as his knees start to wobble.

“Sit down, Uncle Jon,” Molly says loudly from her seat, wanting more than anything than to get up and lower him to the floor—but he had asked his students not to, and so she wants to respect his instructions. And save herself a chewing out.

But with every second that passes, he wavers more and more, and Iris barks at him—he doesn’t quite make it, half sliding down to sit against the wall—but really, more falling than anything. 

_Damn it._

As soon as he hits the ground, Iris is on top of him, lying across his chest as a way of bringing blood back up to his brain, helping him to regain consciousness more quickly. Molly’s classmates immediately start up a low hum of commotion, mostly filled with gasps and expressions of worry—until one arsehole grabs his backpack, and ducks quickly out of the room now that the professor is on the floor.

_Oh, I’ll kill him,_ Molly decides at once, such rage filling her as she glances between his fleeing back and where her uncle lies. As she directs her focus back toward him, he awakens with a gasp—immediately grimacing and pressing a hand to the back of his head.

_Damn it all._

Solemnly accepting that he might be beyond angry with her for it, she can’t help but go to him now that he’s clearly smacked his head on something. She grabs her packed lunch along the way—ready to offer him either juice or ice. Both, perhaps, if necessary.

“Hey, Uncle Jon,” she says as gently as she can, coming to crouch near him, where Iris still lies on top of him. “Need some ice?”

“N-no, I—“ he rubs his hand over the back of his head one more time, as if to make sure. “I think I’m alright.”

“That’s good. I’ve got some juice you can have, if you can sit,” she says, pulling a bottle of apple juice from her bag and shaking it, twisting the lid open for him as he moves to sitting—and Iris moves to lie across his thighs instead.

“Thank you,” he mutters as she hands it to him, sipping at it slowly. “You can go back to your seat now.”

“I’d like to see you get up first.”

The glare she receives in return may be nothing in comparison to many she has been on the receiving end of in the past, but it’s enough to tell her he is irritated, all the same.

“If that’s okay with you,” she adds quickly, hoping to deflate him a bit—and it seems she was successful, as he nods his assent, screwing the top back on the bottle.

Stepping back at once, she watches carefully as Jon directs Iris to sit near him, then braces against both her and the wall as he stands. She does not move until she sees him cross the room to the chair at his desk, coming to sit cross-legged upon it to keep the blood from pooling in his legs again.

Satisfied, Molly returns to her seat—offering a glare to her classmates as she does, silently challenging any of them to say an errant word about it.

“Right,” Jon begins again from the front of the room, voice a bit thin, before starting again. “Right. Could someone please remind me of where we were?”

“The first antistrophe of chorus two, Professor.”

“Thank you, Rowan. Allow me just a moment, please,” he says in his very best professional tone, causing Molly to roll her eyes at once as he slips back into his “annoying professor” mode.

_Why the hell am I in this class?_

“Alright. Let’s pick back up there again—and please pay attention to the foreshadowing of hubris as we go. Would you be so kind as to read for us, please, Anna?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thankful to at least have a moment’s reprieve from note-taking as her classmate reads, Molly takes the time to look back up at Jon—who is now drinking the juice she had offered readily, quite a bit less ashen than in the previous few minutes. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turns to meet her gaze, and she suddenly fears his scowl as a rebuke for not paying attention—but he only offers her a soft smile, and a nod of silent thanks that she cannot help but return.

_You know I’ve got you,_ she thinks—for once, hoping that he would read her mind and find it there.

She could never say such a dreadfully mushy thing aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you all enjoyed!!!
> 
> If you're interested in seeing some previews of topics to come, as well as other great stuff people have sent in about this verse, hit up my Tumblr @celosiaa and search through the #emma tag!
> 
> have a great day!  
> -love, connor


End file.
